Devolution TOC

Chapter 122

Blessed are those who are spiritually needy.
The kingdom of heaven belongs to them. *

That afternoon...

Lucky shifted and squirmed on his bed. "Aunt Bobbie, I look terrible. Emily's coming to visit me, and I don't want her to see all of this." Lucky pointed toward the tubes, IV lines and cardiac leads that were attached to his chest. "It's gross." He frowned and directed his expectant gaze toward Bobbie. "Help me out here. Please?"

"Well, you do look like you owe your life to medical science," Bobbie teased her nephew.

"With my hair, I look more like the swamp thing."

"How can you tell?" Bobbie asked. "I don't see any mirrors nearby."

"I can tell. Trust me," Lucky said.

"Okay," Bobbie sighed. "I have a comb and a small bottle of hairspray in my purse. Let's take care of that hair first."

"See? I told you it was bad," Lucky insisted. "Emily likes my hair. I want it to be okay."

"If you'd quit fidgeting with that oxygen mask, you'd be ahead of the game," Bobbie said as she removed the device and gently raked a comb over his bangs.

"It looks stupid," Lucky complained. "I don't want to wear a mask."

"It's helping you breathe."

"Yeah, yeah."

Bobbie continued to comb Lucky's hair and smooth it into place. She was so grateful that he was alive and well enough to complain. It had only been three days since he'd lain comatose and near death in the ICU and having him wake up seemed like a miracle. "We'd better pass on the hairspray on second thought. I don't want you choking on the fumes and mist. Let me get a washcloth and clean off your face before I put the mask back on."

Lucky closed his eyes and let his aunt run the warm washcloth over his cheeks, forehead and nose. It felt good to have someone pay attention to his needs and fuss over him. His longing for his mother receded a little, and a measure of contentment entered his heart. He opened his eyes when she finished and said, "Thanks," in a grateful voice. "You've been real nice to me, Aunt Bobbie. I appreciate it."

"Only the best for Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior," she laughed. "Here, raise your head a little so I can put the mask back on you without messing up your precious hair." Bobbie felt a pang of concern when she noted that Lucky's color was still bad and that he wheezed raggedly as he breathed. I hope that this chest tube will do the job for him. I'd hate to see him needing surgery. "I'll find you a gown," she offered. "We can drape one over you without tying it so your chest will be covered if you don't want Emily to see."

Lucky nodded his head without speaking. He closed his eyes and reflected that he had no energy. It seemed like all he could do was sleep and cough. He couldn't even sit up. His face screwed up with a sudden searing pain in his chest. He coughed and felt it flare up even worse. Would he ever feel better? Wasn't he in this same place with his health not so long ago?

Bobbie lightly touched his arm. "Are you in pain?"

Lucky nodded solemnly.

"I'll ask a nurse if you can have more medication."

Lucky was asleep when Bobbie returned with a gown. He didn't wake when she lifted his arms to insert them into the sleeves. She loosely draped the cloth over his chest, being careful not to jar his tubes or IV, and tucked the loose ends under his sides before covering him up again with a blanket to his waist. There. Presentable for Emily, she thought. Only he's likely to sleep through most of her visit.

Lucky suddenly shuddered and opened his eyes wide. He grimaced harshly and reached a hand for his chest. Bobbie enfolded his hand into her own to prevent him from jarring any medical apparatus, and she said, "A nurse should be by soon. They said you can have more pain medication. I'll hold your hand until then, okay?"

Lucky mumbled, "Okay," through his mask. His head turned to the side, and he tensed as he tried to ride through the hot wave of pain that washed over him.

~*~*~*~

"He's been sleeping a lot and had some more pain medication not long ago, so it might be a challenge getting him to talk," Bobbie warned Emily as she escorted the girl into Lucky's room. "He's also sensitive about how he looks."

Emily rolled her eyes. "He always is; he's vain," she said as she smiled and shook her head. "Thanks, Bobbie."

Bobbie smiled back. "I'm going back to work now. If he needs anything, you can press the call button."

"Okay."

Emily dropped her brown leather backpack to the floor as she sat down in a chair beside Lucky's bed. She noted the IV and cardiac monitor leads that disappeared under Lucky's gown, the drainage mechanism beside the bed and the ever-present oxygen. She lightly stroked the top of Lucky's forearm. "Hey Lucky.".

Lucky's blue eyes opened and crinkled at the corners when he smiled upon seeing Emily. "Hi," he breathed out.

Emily noted that he didn't move or try to sit up. He seemed very tired and much more lethargic than his usual, fidgety self. "It seems like déjà vu," she said. "You're in the hospital with pneumonia. I thought we agreed you wouldn't do that again."

"Sorry," Lucky said. He looked up at Emily's face and felt a rush of hope and happiness. "Thanks for coming. I'm glad you're here. Sorry about the mask and all this stuff."

Emily gave Lucky a small smile. "It's fine. I'm so glad you're doing better. Last time I heard, you were in a coma. I've been so worried about you." Emily's eyes pooled with tears as she recalled Tony describing the terror that Lucky had endured.

Lucky blinked slowly. "Don't worry."

Emily rose up and kissed Lucky, smiling as she sat back down and wiped at his cheek with the back of her hand to remove the lipstick smudge. "I'm impulsive, what can I say?"

"I like impulsive," Lucky grinned beneath the mask.

Emily chuckled and took Lucky's hand. "What are we going to do with you?"

"Trade me in for a new model?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh-uh," Emily disagreed. "I like this model just fine."

Lucky grew tense and wary. "I didn't keep our dinner date. I was in here. I'm sorry, Emily. I know we need to talk." Lucky ran his hands over his blankets and frowned.

"It's okay," Emily said. "It's not your fault. We'll talk when you're released from the hospital."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I'm tired," Lucky said as he closed his eyes. "I can't stay awake, Emily. I'm sorry."

"I'll sit with you for awhile," Emily replied. She held Lucky's hand as she watched him sleep and struggle to breathe. He sounds so bad - worse than when he had pneumonia before, she noted. But he seems okay mentally. I was so nervous about coming to see him, wondering what he'd do or say. She absentmindedly reached for the gold cross pendant that hung around his neck and stroked it, feeling the warm metal slip underneath her fingertips.

Lucky woke up at the gentle motion of the necklace around his neck and smiled. "Hey, Emily," he said.

Emily started in her chair and let the pendant drop back onto his chest. "Oh. I thought you were still asleep. I was admiring your necklace. When did you buy it?"

"This past weekend when I was at the mall with Nikolas," Lucky answered breathlessly. He coughed and turned away from Emily. When he was through, he turned back to her and said, "Do you want to take it for yourself?" His blue eyes softened as he looked at her pretty face. He wanted to memorize her features and capture them for an eternity as if he'd never see her again.

Emily shook her head and stroked the pendant again. "I'll feel better knowing that you have this next to your heart," she said softly. "I'll pray for you to get well soon." She gently grasped Lucky's hand into her own and laced her fingers between his as she bent them down toward his palm and squeezed lightly. "Try to sleep," she whispered to him.

Lucky smiled and thought, I love you, but didn't dare say it out loud for fear of not hearing a the same answer.

~*~*~*~

Emily knocked lightly on her mother's office door and poked her head in. "Can I talk to you, Mom?"

Monica lifted her head from her patient files and smiled at the sight of her daughter. "Hi, honey. I didn't know you were stopping by. Come on in." Monica stood to welcome Emily and gave her a brief hug and kiss. "I thought tonight was your big dinner with Lucky. Why aren't you home primping?" Monica frowned when she noticed the sadness that permeated her daughter's eyes.

Emily shook her head as she took a seat across from Monica's desk. "Lucky's not coming to dinner. He's in the hospital again. I just came from visiting with him."

Monica was shocked. "Honey, what's going on? You just saw him at the wedding. We all did. He seemed fine, more than fine really."

"I know," Emily replied softly. She placed her backpack in her lap and twisted the cords around her finger. "Somebody tried to kill him on Sunday. He was in a coma."

Monica shoved her files aside to concentrate her attention on her daughter. "What in the world?"

"It was the man who'd kidnapped him. He came back and tried to eliminate the witness. He also tried to kidnap Nikolas and broke his arm. Tony told me that Lucky was poisoned by cyanide. He got over that, but now he has pneumonia. He could hardly stay awake when I visited, and he looks terrible. I'm so scared, mom. I feel helpless." Emily's eyes filled with tears and met her mother's concerned expression. She didn't tell her mother about Lucky's recent breakdown. She wasn't convinced that Monica would support her relationship with that bit of news coloring the situation.

Monica swiftly sat down in the chair beside Emily and took her hand. "Emily, I'm so sorry. Lucky doesn't deserve this, and neither do you."

Emily shrugged and looked away, focusing her vision on the conference table next to her mother's desk and letting her mind wander to the good times that she and Lucky had had before he'd tried to kill himself. There were the recent happy memories of the wedding and dinner at the Sleight of Hand. "Is it meant to be?" she whispered. "Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something, but we haven't listened."

"I doubt it's that cosmic," Monica said. "How do you feel? Do you have the strength to continue on with this relationship? I can see how it's been such a strain for you."

Emily distractedly ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it away from her face into a ponytail before releasing it. "I am worn out," she admitted. "We're not moving forward at all. It seems like torture trying to maintain a relationship." She sighed with defeat. "It's not his fault," she asserted in a stronger voice. "He's making the best of things. He didn't ask for this."

"I know," Monica replied. "I've been worried about him, too. He's had more than his fair share of troubles."

"But one thing never changes," Emily stated.

"What's that?"

Emily turned her face to Monica. "I love him," she said with sincerity. "It's as pure and simple as that." She shook her head and smirked. "I must have been a duck in a former life. I think I've imprinted on him. He's mine, and I'm his whether it makes sense or not. Every time a guy asks me out or I try to imagine my life without Lucky, it never works. I only want to be with him. He'll get better, and it'll work out. It has to."

"I hope so, for both of your sakes," Monica replied as she squeezed Emily's hand. "I want you to know that I'm here for you if you need support or a shoulder to cry on."

Emily gave her mother a lopsided grin. "That's why I'm here I guess."

Monica looked directly into her daughter's eyes. "You know, a lot of people in this world, and in this Quartermaine family in particular, could learn from your loyalty and faith. I admire your values. I want you to know that. You're a special young woman, and I love you so much."

"I love you, too, mom," Emily said, smiling. "Do you want to go out to dinner, just the two of us?"

Monica's eyes brightened. "That's a brilliant idea. A night away from the Quartermaine men is long overdue. Let's go." Monica grabbed her purse and said, "I'll look in on Lucky in the morning if that will help ease your mind."

"Another brilliant idea," Emily said. "How did we get so smart?"

"Self defense."

~*~*~*~

Late afternoon...

"Thanks, Aunt Bobbie." Lucky gestured with his hand toward the phone receiver while waiting for Bobbie to dial the number for Luke.

Bobbie looked worriedly at her nephew. "Maybe you should talk to Luke tomorrow. You've had a lot of visitors, and you need your sleep. The last few days have been difficult for you."

Lucky's face screwed up in protest. "I need to talk to my dad now. It can't wait." Privately, Lucky wasn't certain he was going to recover from this latest bout of pneumonia, and he wanted to talk to his father one last time before it was too late. He sensed that time was quickly running out. He coughed and moaned when a thrill of pain ran through his chest. God help me. I'm going to die, and I'm not ready to go. Please don't let me die. He ran his hand over his eyes as a persistent feeling of sleepiness kept threatening to drag him under, partly from his illness and partly from his psychiatric and pain medications. "Please?" he asked his aunt.

"Okay," she said. "I'll dial the numbers for you. Don't overdo it, though. I'll leave the room for a minute to give you some privacy."

Lucky nodded in agreement as he anxiously watched his aunt dial the numbers. She spoke to two people before Luke was able to take the call. She turned away from Lucky and spoke in a low enough voice that he didn't hear their conversation. "He's not doing well, Luke. He insisted on talking to you. I think he's scared. I'm going to hand him the phone, but I'll see you tomorrow when I bring Lulu. I switched names on the visitor's list several days ago. Okay. Love you, too." Bobbie handed the receiver to Lucky's eager hand.

Lucky spoke tentatively into the phone. "Dad?"

"Cowboy!" Luke's steady, happy voice rang out. "I am so relieved to talk to you. I've been having nightmares worrying about you. How many lives do you have left, son?"

Lucky laughed weakly. "I don't know - five maybe? I'm sure I've used up at least four in the past year."

"Well, as long as you know you're under orders to get well soon," Luke replied gruffly.

"I don't know, dad," Lucky's tremulous voice answered. "I have a bad feeling about this. I'm getting worse."

"What do the doctors say?" Luke asked. His heart was starting to flutter at hearing Lucky express himself with such pessimism.

"They're doing everything they can," Lucky replied. He didn't tell Luke that the bacteria had migrated to his bloodsteam and that he had several strains, including an antibiotic resistant one. Lucky cleared his throat and placed his hand on his forehead as the room started looking fuzzy and his head felt floaty. "Dad, I wanted to tell you that I love you. You're the best dad a guy could ever want. I'm sorry I was such a jerk for years. You didn't deserve all the grief I gave you. Please? Can we start over and wipe the slate clean? I don't want anymore anger between us."

Luke felt a warmth in his heart from the sincerity in his son's words. "I love you, Lucky. There are no bad feelings on my part. I'd like to start over, too. It's a good plan."

"A good plan is always important, right, dad?" Lucky joked.

"A plan is a must," Luke said, smiling at Lucky's humor and remembrance of his dad's careful tutoring. "Are you feeling better after that horrible incident with Faison?" Luke asked. "I don't want to upset you if you don't want to talk about it."

"It's okay. I've had a bad couple of days. Actually, I think the staff at the hospital had it worse. I attacked a couple of people, and they placed me in the violent section of the ward. Good thing I'm such a wimp at fighting. Nobody got hurt. I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not an idiot," Luke quickly corrected his son. "And, you're one of the most tenacious fighters I know. Others might have more brawn, but you have the heart and courage."

"Thanks," Lucky breathed out tiredly. "Hold on a sec." Lucky reached for his oxygen mask and breathed in slowly and deeply as he started to feel desperate without it. He coughed harshly and spit up copious bloody gunk from his aching lungs. He felt fear rip through him when he couldn't catch his breath no matter how hard he tried. His eyes filled with tears, and his heart pounded. I'm suffocating. Finally, he was able to pull in more air, and he relaxed some physically, but emotionally he was on edge.

"Dad," he breathed weakly into the phone receiver. "Dad, I'm scared. I think I'm dying."

He wheezed audibly into the phone, and the hair pricked up on the back of Luke's neck. "Lucky," he said loudly. "What's the matter? Talk to me."

"I can't breathe, and my heart is racing. I can hear it pounding in my ears. I don't feel well." Lucky started crying. "I'm going to die, and no one is here."

"Where's your Aunt Bobbie?" Luke asked.

Lucky didn't answer for seconds as he breathed through his mask with increasing desperation before placing it beside him on the bed. "I don't know. In the hallway?" he choked out.

"Son, I want you to press the call button for a nurse," Luke insisted. "Do it now."

Lucky readily complied with his father's order. "Dad?" he said faintly. "Dad." Lucky felt consumed by a dark, sightless, soundless place, and his hand involuntarily released the phone receiver, causing it to fall and bounce harshly on the hard floor, followed by downward motion of his limp hand.

The tiny sound of Luke's frantic voice echoed out of the receiver. "Lucky? Lucky!"

~*~*~*~

Bobbie stood by tearfully as she watched the nurses working with Lucky. Someone had sent for the pulmonary specialist, but the man wasn't showing up fast enough for Bobbie's comfort. A few minutes earlier, she'd followed the two nurses that rapidly approached her nephew's room. Lucky had been semi-conscious, and his father had been shouting over the phone. Bobbie had tried to calm down Luke and promised to call him back when there was news, but she knew there was no way that Luke would relax; in fact, her nerves were shot, too.

Lucky moaned as one nurse held him up in a sitting position, and the other pounded on his back. The nurse holding him up explained, "He wasn't wearing his mask, and he seems to be choking on the sputum that he's got in his lungs." Lucky weakly placed an arm over his head and cried, "Don't hit me, don't hit me. I'm sorry. It's not my fault." He coughed raggedly and spit up prodigiously into the container beside him.

"Please don't do that any longer than absolutely necessary," Bobbie explained with a tight voice. "He's a psychiatric patient, and he's been abused. It seems to him like he's being beaten."

The nurses positioned Lucky onto his back. "That's enough for now."

"Lucky," the one nurse said loudly as she held his face with her hand. She looked concerned as he seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. "Can you tell me where you are?"

Lucky barely opened his eyes and protested weakly, "Let me out, please let me out. It's too dark in here. Mom? Please don't leave me here."

Bobbie held her hand to her forehead as she fought off a fresh round of tears. This is killing me inside. What am I going to do? She suddenly walked over to the phone and dialed a number that she knew by heart. "Tony? Thank God you're in your office. I need you to come down to Lucky's room right away. Please hurry."

The beeps on Lucky's cardiac monitor continued their frantic pace, and Lucky was becoming less and less responsive to the nurse's prompting.

The general physician on call rushed into the room and talked with the nurses while he assessed the situation and noted Lucky's cold, pale skin and low blood pressure. "He's in septic shock. Administer dopamine 5 mcg/kg/min and move him to ICU so he can be continuously monitored." The physician hurriedly wrote down his orders and handed them to a nurse.

Lucky was nearly unconscious, breathing rapidly and shallowly, and the physician asked, "You called a pulmonary doc?" The physician nodded with the nurse's affirmative reply. "He might need to be placed on a ventilator with his altered mental status. Hurry with the transfer to ICU."

~*~*~*~

Tony rushed into Lucky's room to find Bobbie sitting on Lucky's empty bed with her head in her hands, sobbing her heart out. He quickly sat down beside her and pulled her hands away from her face.

"Bobbie, what's wrong? What's going on?" His heart was pounding with anxiety as their nephew wasn't where he expected him to be. What had happened to Lucky? Where was he?

Bobbie immediately hugged Tony tightly as if she never wanted to let go, and continued to sob on his shoulder. Tony frowned as his shaking hand reached for his wife's back to comfort her. "What happened?" he repeated. This was looking very bad, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear bad news. So much had happened in the previous days, and his nerves were already shot. How much more could they take?

Bobbie separated from Tony and frantically scrounged through her purse as she could barely talk with the tears coursing down her face and her nose totally stuffed up. Tony figured out what she needed and handed her the tissue box from Lucky's nightstand. She wiped her cheeks and took comfort in that simple task as she took in a deep breath to compose herself. Tony couldn't help but laugh when she blew her nose hard with a loud, honking noise that echoed throughout the room. Bobbie laughed in return, feeling a bit more secure now that her best friend and husband was in the room with her.

"Okay," she started. "Lucky hasn't been feeling well at all. When he's not sleeping, he's coughing. He insisted that I help him call Luke. I stepped out in the hallway to give him some privacy because it seemed like he had something important to discuss. Two nurses nearly ran down the hall to his room, and I grew concerned. He must have pressed the call button. He was nearly unconscious with the phone hanging down to the floor. Luke was shouting on the phone and nearly out of his mind with worry. Lucky apparently said "Dad" a couple of times and then faded out."

"Where's Lucky?" Tony whispered.

"He was transported to the ICU a minute ago. I knew I had to wait for you here." Bobbie continued with a scared, high-pitched voice. "The physician said he was in septic shock and they might have to place him on a ventilator. Tony, we both know what that means. There's a fifty percent chance he might die! What are we going to do?" Bobbie began crying again, and Tony pulled her into a hug, partly to reassure himself that things would turn out okay. The couple clung to each other with a desperate intensity as they tried in vain to bring a sense of control to their lives.

"We need to pray for him," Tony said as they finally parted. "That's what we can do." He took Bobbie's hand, and they both looked into each other's teary eyes. "We'll pray that God will help him through this crisis and give us more strength."

~*~*~*~

ICU9

The pulmonary specialist finally arrived in Lucky's room and conferred with the general physician as he looked over the lab results and recent monitoring of the patient in question.

Lucky was unaware of the exact persons in the room, hearing only distant murmurs of several voices rising and falling with their intonations. Every once in a while, someone would call his name, pulling him back into the room, and he'd open his eyes in response, and then promptly close them, not able to pay attention to his surroundings with the extreme physical work of breathing and pumping blood through his heart. Lately, he'd felt as if the boundaries of his body weren't real and only a figment of someone else's imagination. He gave into the feeling as he took in a deep, painful breath.

Lucky felt himself release with a pop and pull up into another space that was uniquely different. He turned around in wonder as he felt bathed in golden splendor, a warm, bejeweled light that had no obvious physical source. His heart leaped in a pleasant way at the sound of his name being called. The sound was human, but seemingly composed of every musical instrument in the world rather than the rough passage of mere air over vocal cords. The man who spoke his name beckoned to him with an extended hand, and Lucky walked toward him, stopping and looking expectantly when he stood directly beside him. The man's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at Lucky's face. He drew Lucky close to his side with an arm extended over Lucky's shoulder.

"You have a question for me," the man said matter of factly with the same melodious voice.

Lucky breathed in deeply with a comfortable feeling spreading throughout his body. He looked with sincerity upon the man's face and asked without hesitation, "If you love me, why have you let me suffer?"

The man removed his arm from Lucky and stretched his hands out in front of him. Lucky looked down at the extended hands, strong with labor yet young with age. The man turned them over and revealed palms full of blood, pooling and dripping through the long, cupped fingers. Lucky was mesmerized by the sight and filled with trepidation.

"Will you take my hand?"

Lucky hesitated at first, glancing up at the man's gentle eyes with a questioning gaze. Lucky made his decision, and reached out his right hand to interlace his fingers with the offered bloody hand, shouting harshly and falling to his knees when the sights, sounds and emotions of the man's experiences rushed into his being. As he tried to release his hand and pulled back in panic, the man held him firmly, not allowing him to depart.

"I can't, I can't bear this!" Lucky screamed in agony, writhing and twisting to separate himself from the man's suffering.

Sensory impressions bombarded him with the swiftness of rushing water, and Lucky felt torn places in his goatee, blood dripping into his eyes, and someone's contemptuous spit rolling down his cheeks and over his lips as he struggled with carrying the weight of hundreds of pounds of splintery wood on his ravaged back. He tried to breathe, but could barely pull in a few whisps of air while the failing muscles in his weak legs pushed and pushed his chest higher so his lungs wouldn't collapse. His face screwed up with emotional anguish upon hearing the sounds of taunts and jeers that pierced his soul.

"I know," the man stated simply as he released Lucky.

Lucky remained on his knees, panting and looking down at his shaking hand with wide eyes as precious relief washed over him, relief to be away from the weight of this man's burdens.

"Although the sin is yours to bear, I willingly took it upon myself," the man stated with authority. "It was my choice. I have given you freedom."

Lucky's body shook as he dared to look up toward the voice. The simple, friendly man had changed in appearance and seemed many times larger, the shape of his face and body grown indistinct through the overwhelming force of light that emitted from his being. Lucky fell face first in his presence and trembled with fear as he was overcome by the majesty that surrounded him. It didn't seem to be a conscious decision on his part, rather the natural order of things that forced him into the humble position.

"Look upon me," the man ordered with a change in the timbre of his voice making him seem more mellow and approachable now.

Lucky cautiously raised his head to cast his eyes on him.

"You must take my hand to be with me."

Lucky nodded in understanding, and his lips parted in wonder as the man mysteriously shimmered, taking on many different aspects at once yet remaining wholly himself. Jesus' eyes twinkled tenaciously with Tony's faithful kindness, and his laugh was deep and masculine like Ian's. He held out a hand as soft and gentle as Bobbie's and seemed to have an intellect as keen as Kevin's. Lucky saw the warm glow of Lulu and Lucas' admiration and the strong arm of Nikolas' friendship. Jesus' pockets were full of Barb's candy bars and Edward's golf balls, and his heart pulsed with the steady love of Emily and Luke.

"I'll be with you to the very end," he said as he placed his right hand around Lucky's shoulder. "I love you," he added tenderly.

Lucky felt himself slip away from that place and presence in an instant, and opened his eyes to the sight of two men and a woman in white surrounding him. He moved his eyes around the room and stated loudly, "Jesus said he loves me."

~*~*~*~

Silence descended on the ICU room, and Lucky looked over at the ventilator that had been brought in for him. His eyes ran over the plastic tubing and other supplies that lay on a tray near his bed.

The pulmonary specialist broke the silence with his light laugh. "Yes, I'd say he does," he said firmly as he motioned for the nurse to wheel back the ventilator so he could examine Lucky.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Lucky Spencer."

"Where are you right now?"

"Um, in the hospital. I have pneumonia."

The pulmonary specialist nodded, assured that Lucky had regained a clear mental status. He glanced at the cardiac monitor and noted that Lucky's pulse rate was in the normal range as well as his blood pressure reading from the automatic cuff. "Let's listen to your chest," he stated.

Lucky moved on his bed as instructed and breathed in and out for what seemed like an impossible number of times. "It's obvious that you have pneumonia from listening to your lungs, but I detect no traces of septic shock. You're a very lucky young man. We'll have to draw some blood and repeat some tests to make sure you're out of the woods, but for now, we'll keep you on oxygen and place you on close observation."

The pulmonary specialist looked curiously at Lucky as the other medical personnel filed out of the room with the ventilator. "You came very close to respiratory arrest, young man." He smiled as his eyebrows rose. "Then, poof, back you came saying Jesus loves me." He sat down on the edge of Lucky's bed. "Mind telling me where you went for those few seconds?"

Lucky's eyes darted around the room. "Um, well, I think I was in heaven."

The pulmonary specialist patted Lucky on the knee as he stood. "Okay. That's what I thought."

Lucky blinked in surprise. "What?"

The doctor shrugged. "You don't deal with life and death on a daily basis without witnessing some very interesting things. I'm not the healer, you know. I'm just the facilitator."

* From Matthew 5 - one verse each in chapters 122-129.

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